


Monster

by kantokraze



Category: Eddsworld - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crimes & Criminals, Implied Relationships, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Murder, Prison
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-05
Updated: 2018-11-05
Packaged: 2019-08-19 02:20:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16525448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kantokraze/pseuds/kantokraze
Summary: Tord has been a petty criminal with an alibi for years, until a murder is committed that places him at the scene of the crime.With the victim.And he swears that he didn't do it this time.He's glad to see his defense attorney is his ex, Tom, mostly because he looks fantastic in a suit.





	Monster

"You've got to believe me," Tord pleaded, attempting to pull his hands free of his shackles, "Look, look, I know I'm not the most trustworthy person, but--"

"'Not the most trustworthy person?'" The officer laughed softly, "Listen, pal. You've been in this station almost one hundred and twenty seven times. And that's not even an exaggeration. That's exact." She shook her head slowly and narrowed her eyes, "We have absolutely no need to believe you, especially after you've lied so many times in the past."

The room was drenched in this feeling of existential dread. Both officers had their eyes locked and loaded onto Tord, and so he knew: there was no way he was getting out of here this time.

"And now, we finally have the proof we need to put you behind bars-- for good!" The chief couldn't help but smile as he watched Tord squirm in his chair. "We know you did it this time. And we know you'll be behind bars for a long ass time."

"Okay, okay," Tord muttered, biting back his swears, "I would literally plead to every crime I've done before, but seriously-- this time it wasn't me! You've got the wrong guy!"

"Tord," The chief shook his head slowly, "This is the worst thing you could have possibly done. We literally have you on candid camera talking to the victim moments before their death, before you two walk out of sight together."

"You even had your hands all over the victim," the officer added, adjusting her glasses. "Not to mention, moments before their estimated time of death. We've got you this time. Now all we need is a confession."

The female officer crossed her arms silently as a smirk crossed her face. The chief of police slammed his hands down on the table, before moving his face slowly towards his. Tord saw the glimmer in those brown eyes, a look of pride and justice.

"Check-fucking-mate." He roared deep in laughter, before exiting the observation room with his fellow officer.

God damn it, he had really gotten deep in some shit this time.

"It really isn't my fault this time!" Tord called out, attempting to shuffle out of his restraints, "I know you can fucking hear me, you dick!"

After a few moments with no response, Tord sighed. Think back. Think back to right after you saw him. It was a hook up, just like every other night. He was drunk, you met at a bar, and what?

What was his name again? The color of his eyes? What was that fucker even wearing? He was so drunk himself he didn't remember.

It was someone he met before, he thought. Someone unexpected? Someone who was definitely a top. He remembered that much by the way he was flirting.

But what happened after that? Did he fucking die? The officers never really made it that clear.

"Think back, dammit," Tord grumbled, laying his head against the table. "I'm so fucked."

"Maybe you're not as fucked as you think," he heard a familiar voice say, as he glanced up slowly.

"Tom? Oh thank God," Tord exhaled, feeling his anxiety instantly drop. "I knew you would come for me but I really don't know what I did this time--"

"All my clients call me Thomas," Tom stated, narrowing his eyes. "And don't get me wrong. I stopped looking at your case file years ago, but after I heard this little rumor go around that you killed our old neighbor, well, frankly, I couldn't believe it."

"Yeah, right, I would never--"

"I'm not saying that you wouldn't kill a man." Tom stopped him in his tracks, furrowing his brows. "You are still a disgusting shit bag, but you're a disgusting shit bag who needs to gain something to be motivated to crime." 

"I'll take it," Tord smirked, leaning back in his chair a bit. "You look good," he mentioned briefly. Tom had really cleaned up his act a few years after the gang broke up for the last time. He started going to Alcohol Anonymous meetings, started going to college to work towards a major in criminal law. He looked clean cut in his suit, but he never really left that shaggy look behind, you could still see it in his deep set eyes, tousled hair, and slight five o'clock shadow.

"Coming here was not an excuse for you to devour me with your eyes." He frowned, pulling up a chair directly across from Tord. Tom crossed his legs and leaned back a bit, "Now let's start from the beginning."

"The beginning, huh?" He chuckled slightly, playing with the chains of his handcuffs.

"The beginning of January 3rd, Tord. Tell me how it started. How did you meet with Eduardo that night?"

Eduardo.

That name echoed in Tord's mind for a moment.

"We met up at Polly's, the bar on Church Street, across from 54th. The one on the corner across from that furniture store..." Tord sighed, feeling a bit embarrassed, "I go there a lot, see him there on weekends. We talk sometimes, but not about anything important. Sometimes he would complain about work, sometimes we would flirt, but that never really lead to anything until..."

"Until the attack," Tom nodded, "Of course, a lot of people think you're the one that attacked him, but that's not really true, is it, Tord?" He asked, opening a small folder and sliding a few photos of surveillance camera footage towards him.

It definitely was him. He was wearing black slacks and work shoes, still in his waiter's uniform after his late night shift at the diner. And he definitely had his arms around Eduardo. The footage was fuzzy, but you could notice Tord's signature from a mile away: his hair.

"Yeah, yeah.. I just remember looking over and seeing something huge in the alleyway..." He muttered, shuffling his feet awkwardly.

"I think I'm missing a piece. You went into the alleyway with Eduardo because you saw something huge? This just sounds like premeditated murder." Tom chuckled, running a hand through his hair.

"No, no. We went in the alleyway to just, kinda, fuck around, you know?"

"Tord." Tom said quietly, "You know the drill. You have to be specific. Everything you say will be used against you in the court of law." He swore he saw him smile a bit as he said that.

"God, alright." Tord grumbled, "We went in the alleyway to fuck, or something. We were both drunk and horny so we were touchy-feely, we started making out against the wall.. you know."

Tord rolled his eyes silently, placing his hands on the table. "But, that thing. It was fucking huge."

Tom nodded, "It wasn't seen on camera. If you could compare it to something or give it an estimate.." he stated, taking a few notes with a pen.

"Well, I was drunk, but.. it was bigger than two dumpsters, but not tall enough to surpass the apartment building next door, if it wasn't seen on camera, I guess... So, maybe 20 feet or something? I'm not great with estimates," he noted.

"That's good enough for me," Tom laughed, "You were drunk, but were you high as well? Did you and Eduardo huff paint together or something? Because that sounds ridiculous."

"I'm not kidding!" Tord stood up immediately, knocking his folding chair to the ground. "I saw that fucking thing, and it was horrible! It had these huge horns and these big violet eyes! And these big teeth and claws! As soon as I saw it my boner was fucking gone and I sprinted out of there!" Tord yelled out, looking Tom directly in the eyes.

"Tom, you've got to fucking believe me, I'm not crazy. I know what I saw."

"I believe you," Tom nodded, never looking up from his notes. "I believe you completely, it's just that you're a hardened criminal and the court is never going to believe you. You're a druggie and a drunk and it's going to be extremely hard to get anyone to take your side on this case."

"I know, I know! But I'd do time and admit to every other crime rather than be in jail for this one! This sentence could get me for life, or even the fucking death penalty! I've only ever done petty shit," Tord pleaded.

Tom sighed audibly, glancing around the room, "And you've got no alibi because it literally was you in the alleyway. It's your word against, well, your actions. Because to the world it looks like you just killed a guy in an alley and scrammed. Great job, Tord. I thought there would be more to this story."

"Oh, god, are you giving up on me?" Tord questioned, slowly beginning to plead with him. "Tom, I swear I'll do anything for you to actually take my case. If anyone can get me out of this fucking mess I know it's you."

"It's Thomas, to you," He corrected him, gathering his papers placing his pen behind his ear. "And, this might be the biggest mistake I've ever made, but, I'll take your damn case. We'll talk shortly." Tom stated as he straightened his back.

"I could fucking kiss you right now," Tord mumbled with a relieved expression plastered on his face.

Tom said nothing as he exited the room, but Tord could tell he was smirking as he shut the door after him.

 

.  
.  
.

He knew that his time was running out now. It had been weeks since Tom and Tord's first talk in years, and only so much had been done. Tom had read his case to the judge as he asked for an extension.

"A mental health evaluation should be done before this case continues any further," Tom stated to the jury as the judge nodded and relinquished the court in silence.

The chief of police, Burkett, they called him, and his head officer, Miranda stood in angered silence. Burkett's eyes were narrow and glazed as he mouthed empty threats to the defendant.

"I don't care how much time you have left," Miranda said coyly, "You're still guilty and nothing is going to change that. Time is meaningless when you're still the lead suspect."

And honestly, this entire process had taken a real toll on Tord. The nights that Tom didn't visit his cell were empty and meaningless to him. Without Tom, he really was just a hardened criminal. 

But that didn't mean Tom wasn't working hard to clear Tord's name of a murder. He spent countless nights searching footage of countless cameras of every angle. Asking the people in the apartment complex if someone had ever seen such a creature, or perhaps happened to be watching that night. No one remembered anything about that monster the night of January 3rd.

"There's got to have been someone," Tom hissed, looking over the statements of the tenants tirelessly. "Someone who must have seen setting. Someone who didn't realize what they saw."

"I was watching a movie that night. It was some action movie. I got drunk and fell asleep to it." Said Apartment 5B.

"I was Skyping with my wife that night. I was too busy talking to her to see anything." Said Apartment 8C.

".. I was out of town that week. I went back to my hometown to see my parents." Said Apartment 4A.

They all had airtight alibis with no connection to the murder or even a thought. Tom had gone far enough to ask for their texts and phone call records for that night, looking for a straw to grasp. Looking for anything that might save Tord's name.  
And more importantly, none of them had seen a twenty foot tall monster.

"C'mon, Tommy? A mental health evaluation? The jury's gonna think I've gone fucking bonkers."

"That's because it sounds bonkers, Tord. And stop calling me that. Of course no one is going to believe you've seen a twenty foot monster in an alleyway. First of all, it's ridiculous, and second of all, it's-"

"Then why the hell did you take the case then? You still think I'm insane," he threw his hands into the air tirelessly. "I'm not a fucking pity case. Sure, I've fucked up a few hundred times, but god damn, I'm not lying this time. No matter if it sounds like bullshit or not, I'm not lying this time, I'm really not!"

Tom dropped his gaze quietly. He knew that, he really did, but he just couldn't explain to him how he knew that.

He had been there that night. He had been watching in silence before making his move, but how are you supposed to tell someone that the monster that they saw was you?

"I.. I can't explain how, but I know you're not lying." Tom shuffled awkwardly, adjusting his tie.

"Great, thanks." Tord sighed, sinking into his chair, holding his head in his hands. "Now I'm just going to die with a lawyer who believed me but couldn't prove his case. Neat."

"We can turn this around," Tom said quietly, "but we may or may not need to fabricate some evidence in order to turn the jury in your favor."

"What do you mean?" Tord asked, meeting his dark gaze. "I mean.. you know I have no issues with lying to get out of a bad situation, but I'm not entirely sure what you mean."

"The mental health evaluation.." Tom mentioned quietly, "I need you to lie to the psychiatrist. Please don't speak too loud," he added with a small whisper, "they may be listening."

He nodded over towards the mirror in the room, one that was so familiar to him. Double sided, he knew; however, whether or not these walls were soundproof he did not know. He glanced towards the cameras quietly and cocked an eyebrow.

"Those don't work." Tom mentioned, "they told me that as soon as I got here. I wanted to know if I was able to listen back on my sessions with you and that's when they told me."

"What do you want me to lie about?" Tord asked quietly, his eyes unsure of the outcome.

"We're going to flip the tables here. We're going to say that he slipped something into your drink and attempted to take advantage of you. Think along the lines of a repressed memory. Trauma. A psychiatrist can pick up on that in an instant. Especially a bad one." Tom instructed, writing a few notes down on his pad of paper.

"So.. you're going to make sure that I have a terrible shrink and that I lie to them?" Tord questioned, "I'm surprised at you. Or more so that you would go to this length to protect me."

"Please don't say it like that," Tom stated with disgust, "It's not like that. You're my client and my pride is on the line."

Tord shrunk in his seat, looking a bit smaller than usual.

Tom wished he could explain everything to him in this moment, but it was better he didn't know right now. It was better that he went into his mental evaluation with a clear mind.

"You're an excellent actor. An excellent liar and a mind capable of deceit." Tom added, trying to boost his spirits.

"Yeah, not working much for me here. I haven't acted since high school and I'm not as bad of a person that you think I am," Tord stated quietly, not glancing up from the table.

"You know what's on the line here, Tord. Your life. Just do as I say. You were talking at the bar. We know that, we even have that on really blurry film. The two of you were talking for hours and were drinking. Lucky for us he was wearing long sleeves. It's going to be easy to find a shot that looks like he's drugging you." Tom reached across the table and grabbed his hand in reassurance, "It'll be just fine. Just do exactly as I say."

.  
.  
.

"And then what happened?" She asked comfortingly.

Her blonde hair was in tight curls, her lips were blood red, and her smile was plastic. His hair was messy, his lips were chapped, and his tears were fake.

"I don't remember much else," He stated with a sniffle, "It all happened so fast and I was so unsure. We were just drinking and having a good time and everything started feeling so strange, like I was high or, or something. But I hadn't taken anything in the past week."

"And the two of you were flirting and drinking," she noted quietly, "now, how did that make you feel?" She said with a smile.

"Well, it made me think of the past I guess, but--"

"No, no, Tord," The woman said, shaking her head, "let's push past this barrier while I've got you here. Why did it remind you of the past? Who did you think of?"

Tord stopped for a moment and sighed. This wasn't much what he had in mind, but it kind of felt good to talk about the past for a change. He hadn't really thought about the past lately.

"It reminds me of a guy that I used to have feelings for," he said quietly, "They've been lingering since high school. Drinking and partying are things we used to do together. Most of the things we did together weren't intentional, but we did them anyway.. and I guess it makes me feel like he still cares? Or something? Like he's still there?"

She nodded briefly, dropping her notepad to the side table. "In doing these things, it brings back a rush of memories. A rush of energy and a feeling that is irreplaceable to you. And when you drink and have sex with these men.. do you ever think of him? Perhaps call his name?"

Tord dropped his jaw as if to emit a sound, but nothing came out. He cleared his throat as he responded with a shaky, "yes."

"And when you killed that man, did you think of him? Did you think that you were doing it for him? Did you think that it was him?"

Tord immediately snapped, "I never fucking killed Eduardo. I never did that."

The woman nodded slowly, "Right, right. Sorry, I thought that your guard may have been down, but it seems that it's not." Her plastic smile returned, as she picked back up her pen and pad.

"So, the two of you were laughing, drinking, having a good time before it all started to become fuzzy." She stated, "What happened next?"

.  
.  
.

"Wake up, dip-shit," Tom muttered, his breath was hot and smelled of tequila, "It's morning and I don't want to be caught fucking in Stacy Hollands parent's bed," he laughed, kissing his forehead gently.

Tord laughed, flipping over and breathing in the scent of cotton and dried cum. His head was pounding but he didn't really care. Everything felt fine.

Tom was laughing too, struggling to put back on his pants from the night before, "Oh, shit," he giggled, balling up the garment and tossing them at his head, "These are your pants," he snorted.

Tord mumbled and glanced up at his partner, swinging his legs off of the side of the bed to redress himself. As much as he hated Stacy Holland, he sure as hell didn't mind her parents bed, especially if Tom was in it.

Tom stuck out his tongue at Tord and blew a raspberry. "Hurry up. I don't want anyone to know we were even here."

"Sure, except the fact that you made the bed look like damn forensic evidence," Tord laughed, noting the belts tied to the posts of the bed frame.

"Oh, go to hell. I wanna watch them scrape my dried jizz off of their bed for weeks."

God, he was cute when he smiled. He had this intense look going on right now, a couple of piercings on his ears and Tord's oversized sweatshirt. He stuck out his tongue to reveal the euclid stud he had pierced himself only a few weeks ago.

Tom glanced over at the side table and gathered his pipe and grinder, "Oh, shit. There's still weed in here," he said, pressing the mouthpiece to his lips as he lit the bowl. Tord made his way over to him and grabbed his hips. Tom blew smoke into his face as Tord inhaled deeply.

Partly for the contact high, partly to feel Tom's mouth close to his.

"God damn," Tord chuckled, passing a quick peck to the brunette. 

He knew that when Tom was sobered up again, all of this would be over. He grabbed his hand tightly and lead him down the stairs, glancing over at a few party goers who were still absolutely hammered from the night before. This was the way it went. They lived together, sure, but they considered it more of a frat house than anything. Just a couple of high school buddies in their first years of college.

Tom spun around towards the passenger seat of Tord's shitty red convertible, as he let the car chirp a few times before letting him in.

The two settled in their seats as Tom adjusted the air freshener hanging on the rear view mirror. Tord turned the key in the ignition and adjusted the heat to allow the windows to defrost.

"I'm hungry as hell," Tom noted, shoving his pipe into the messy glove compartment.

"We have food back at the house," Tord laughed, adjusting the mirror back and throwing the car into reverse.

"Damn, and your point is, mom?" Tom chuckled, eyeing him dangerously.

"Shut the hell up, Tommy, your mother is a god damn bowling ball," He laughed, as he gave Tom a side eye glance.

"That's rude as hell! She has a condition," He corrected him, before reaching over and turning on the radio. His eyes would light up when he heard a song he liked and he would start humming softly, usually, but when he wasn't sober? This man would produce a full on concert in his car.

Tom relaxed and he began to exaggerate his vocals, drumming on the dashboard. Tord couldn't help but smile as he reached over to rest a hand on his thigh.

Then he threw on his right turn signal to go to Taco Bell.

.  
.  
.

He ran his hand through his hair, breathing heavily. He hated that dream and that memory. He hated thinking about it and he hated reliving it, especially now, since his dreams were all that he could resort to. It was the only way to truly feel normal again.

Now that he was caught and trapped here, he hadn't had decent human contact in a while. Even during socialization periods in the prison he would remain silent, keeping to himself. He was still under surveillance. He was still being seen by the psychiatrist. He was still being seen by Tom, a few times a week, and he wouldn't say anything, but those were his favorite times.

He lay back down in his bed quietly, unwilling to disturb his new roommates with the sudden noises. Today was going to be another day that he saw Tom and he would tell him exactly what to say to the psychiatrist tomorrow. Little did Tom know these sessions were becoming more and more about him and less about the case. He was fucked up, yeah, but the psychiatrist already knew that. It's not hard to tell.

It's not that hard to tell when someone's hurting inside.

He just wanted to stop reliving the past when he was with Tom. He wanted to stop living in the shitty past and live in the equally shitty reality.

.

Tom was wearing a vest today, his pen tucked behind his ear. He sat quickly and quietly, laying out his papers in an orderly manner before even glancing up at Tord.

"How's it going in the sessions?" He questioned, "Is it working? Do you see her reaching--"

"When are we gonna talk?" Tord scowled with a blank expression plastered on his face.

"Talk?" Tom reiterated, cocking his head to the side, "Talk about what exactly?"

"Talk about what happened before all of this bullshit."

"What? You mean being dumb fucking kids? There's nothing to talk about there." Tom growled back as his hands slowly balled into fists.

He knew exactly where this was going.

"No, we weren't kids. We were adults and we knew what we were doing. And it's awkward and painful to not talk about, Tom. At least for me." Tord never broke eye contact with him, as if they were asserting some sort of match of dominance.

Tom sighed audibly, biting his tongue, "Look, Tord, that was years ago. Literally a decade ago, now. Can we just--"

"Just what? Get over it? Pretend nothing ever happened like we did for years?" He laughed loudly for a moment before glancing at Tom's pained expression, "Literally a decade," He mumbled sadly.

"I never wanted it to get serious," he murmured, "but it did. And I'm sorry."

"Yeah," Tord chuckled in agony. "I'm done here. Just-- leave."

Tord kind of hoped that he would stay, talk him out of it with his smooth words, tell him that he loved him or some bullshit that would happen in the movies.

But that didn't happen.

And he watched Tom leave the room with blurred vision.

.  
.  
.

"You've never even really told me much about how he was," the psychiatrist mentioned briefly.

"I'm guessing you mean as a person and not in bed?" He laughed, "Yeah, no. He was nice to me when we were drunk, high, or twisted. When he was sober he would never acknowledge my existence. When we were fucked up he would always tell me he loved me and when he was sober he would tell me to fuck off and leave him alone. And that nothing happened."

"Tord, it sounds like to me you were being gaslighted." She stated, before briefly taking a note, "Gaslighting is when someone says something to you and then turns around and says that what they said wasn't true or that they never said it in the first place. It can be extremely frustrating and confusing. And this can lead to mental strain."

Tord nodded, that sounded about right to him.

"But we haven't really touched on how I can forget him. How can I go to sleep at night and stop having nightmares about what we used to be?" Tord looked exhausted at this point, gently massaging his temples.

"Unfortunately, that's not some type of mental health magic. It's pretty complex and confusing. It takes time to truly learn how the mind works and how we can use our bad experiences to grow. One thing that we can use as an advantage and a head start to fight depression is medication, which I would like to talk with you about, actually." She smiled awkwardly and pulled out a prescription pad.

Tord sank further back into his seat.

.  
.

Tord sighed in disbelief, "Thomas," he said softly, "What are you doing here?"

The man slurred his words slightly, grasping onto the wall for good measure, "Nothin' much, just in the neighborhood and wanted to see ya," he grinned.

Drunk. He always had to be drunk when he wanted to see him.

He opened the door to his room and let the man crash onto his bed.

"So, now that you're drunk you want to hang out with me? What about a few hours ago when I wanted to play video games with you?" He asked, a bit peeved.

"Well, I wasn't drunk then," Tom mouthed, "... But I am now." He chuckled, grasping the bed sheets in his fists.

Tord huffed quietly, taking a seat on the bed near Tom, "Is there a reason you only ever want to hang out with me when you're not in the right mind?" He asked quickly, wondering if he would even catch the question. 

"Because I love ya," he beamed, reaching his hands out to touch Tord.

Tord took his hands into his, tracing the knuckles with the tips of his fingers, "You put me in a lot of pain, you know that?" Tord smiled sadly, kissing his hand with gentle lips.

Tom never apologized, but he did hold him tightly for a few moments before passing out in his arms. Tord acted like he wasn't hurt, laying in bed next to him and silently sobbing into the comfort of the pillows.

He knew this would never work.

.  
.  
.

The trial was only a few days away now and Tord was petrified, although he now knew the outcome. He hadn't made a break though with his psychiatrist yet and he hadn't seen Tom in nearly a week. Every day was painful.

He knew he would most likely be considered an abomination and given the death penalty, probably. Maybe life in prison. Or if he was lucky maybe he'd just die.

He just wanted to see Tom one more time before the trial. Maybe set things straight? Maybe finally get some answers after all these nights of no sleep? Perhaps closure was what he seeked.

Closure was what his psychiatrist told him he needed. But he just liked how the word dripped off of his tongue.

Closure.

He was surprised when he was told his lawyer was here to help him discuss his case. He nodded and met with Tom in one of the prison's private rooms. They often met here rather than over those weird prison payphones that they often show on televisions.

Tom explained to the prison personnel that his case was absolutely air tight. One of the most confusing and radical charges in the century! Which was a lie, of course. But who could say no to Tom in a suit?

"So you're back," Tord stated calmly as they finished fastening his restraints to the table.

"That I am." Tom said, and nodded for the guards to leave. As soon as they filed out and the door was secured behind them, Tom leaned over the table.

"I want to start off by saying that I am sorry," Tom said quietly, "I want to explain myself a bit before we get down to business."

Tord nodded briefly, his eyes glimmering.

Tom allowed a sigh to escape, before clearing his throat gently.

"I didn't know what I was doing or thinking, Tord. I really was in love with you back then. I was just scared of what was happening to me. I didn't want anyone to know who I was. I didn't want that to affect my future. Back then I was making a lot of mistakes, you know. The alcohol. The drugs. The lying. The sneaking out. Using you for my own personal gain," he added slowly, swallowing a lump in his throat.

"I really am sorry. I never wanted this to have such a negative effect on you. I never wanted this to have a negative effect on me, but it did. I was afraid to come out and say what I really felt and I dragged you into the ground and I never wanted to talk about it. And I can't imagine how much that must have hurt you," he said, clinging to each and every word.

"I knew I wasn't going to like what you were going to say," Tord established, furrowing his brows tightly, "but telling me that I was a mistake in your life doesn't make me feel any better. Especially since it's supposed to be, what? An apology?" He added, placing his head on the table to avoid eye contact.

"I am sorry. I wish I could.. tell you more about how I feel. But I'm a lawyer. I'm not very good at emotions and showing them, or expressing them, for that matter. I really am sorry. I wish I could explain better." He sighed, wringing his hands slowly, "but that's not the only thing I'm going to tell you today."

"Oh, what now? They've decided to fry me? Big deal. I already knew I had that coming." He laughed sadly, shaking his head against the table.

"That monster that you saw," Tom explained, "I found it."

Tord's heart nearly jumped into his throat as he raised his head, "You did what?" Tord asked, his eyes brimming with tears at this point.

"The monster," he breathed, "I know who it is."

"God dammit, just tell me, please! I can be innocent if we know what, or, who, it is!" He stated excitedly, pressing against his restraints.

Tom took a deep breath and looked deeply into Tord's eyes.

"It's me."

Tord erupted into laughter, tears falling from his eyes at an alarming rate. "You think you're so funny, don't you, Thomas? You ruined my life! You played with my feelings in high school and through college and you're doing it again! Even though you just apologized, not even ten minutes ago!" He cried, attempting to wipe away his tears with his forearm. "You took my case just to fuck with me and my feelings again and you knew that! God, dammit, you knew that! I trusted you and you told me that you believed me and that I wasn't crazy and yet, here we are! I'm crazy again." He sobbed, pulling at his hair tightly.

Tom said nothing for a moment, just sat with his mouth agape as Tord sobbed across from him.

He wanted to hold him so bad, but he knew he couldn't do that. He just couldn't.

"I wasn't kidding," Tom breathed shakily, "I am the monster that you saw, Tord. It was me. I saw him, and I saw you. I was watching you. I don't even know what came over me, I just," Tom shook his head quietly, his eyes shifting their gaze quickly.

"You're fucking with me," Tord laughed, sniffling into his arm, "Stop it, it fucking hurts. It's not funny anymore." He said, resting his head back on the table.

Tom stood up quickly and growled, he pushed all of his anger and frustration forwards into his mind as he hissed in pain. Tord glanced up to see the most horrific sight he had ever seen in his entire life. That beast, that monster, whatever it was-- it had destroyed his life and it was transforming right in front of him. His chest tightened as he fell out of his chair, fighting against the restraints.

It was Tom, but a horrid version where his limbs were becoming his claws, his teeth becoming fangs, his eyes becoming daggers that dug directly into his soul, the horns that the devil would bear standing jaggedly out of his skull.

He wanted to scream, but he couldn't. He could only watch as that monster, as quickly as it came, was gone. And it was replaced by Tom.

"Oh, god," Tord mouthed as he couldn't help the bile rising in his throat. He coughed out what had to be his guts, his arms still shackled to the table as he remained on the floor, staring at his own vomit. He would rather look at his own vomit than Tom right now.

Tom cursed silently, pulling at the shreds of his sleeves. He rushed towards Tord, attempting to place an arm around him.

"Don't fucking touch me," he hissed, attempting to shuffle away from his... friend. "I can't believe this," he coughed, pressing back the worst feeling he could have ever imagined.

"I'm sorry you had to find out like this," Tom said quietly, glancing up at Tord's confused state.

"You're sorry you ruined my life?" He croaked out quietly. "It's fine, really," he murmured, fighting back the urge to kick him directly in the face.

"Please don't say that," Tom said, standing and fixing what was left of his suit, "I have to learn how to live with my mistakes just as you have."

"My mistakes didn't necessarily involve killing a man and framing your ex for murder," Tord snapped, "just leave!"

And that's just what he did.

.  
.  
.  
"I don't understand why I can't bring myself to hate him. No matter what he does," Tord exhaled, licking his lips.

"That happens sometimes when you're in an abusive relationship. Some people experience Stockholm syndrome, in which they, in a sense, fall in love with their captor. It's an offset of that. We accept the kind of love that we think we deserve."

He shuffled his feet awkwardly. "What does that say about me?"

"It tells me that you've experienced a lot in your lifetime. You may have a lot of trauma or repressed memories hidden there." She chewed on the tip of her pen quietly.

"Am I going to be broken my entire life?" Tord asked, unsure of what he wanted the answer to be.

"There's something I never told you about that night," Tord mouthed at the psychiatrist.

"What is it? We're coming close to the trial date. I imagine it must be hard to talk about when it's this close to the big decision."

"I think I did do it. What if it's just one of those repressed memories? What if I actually did do it but I just, don't remember doing it? Is that possible?" 

"That's absolutely possible, but please refrain from confessing here.. I don't think that you did it, Tord." She murmured.

"You don't?" Tord looked a bit surprised at this point.

"Nope. I think that you've got issues, sure. But we all do. They can be easily fixed. But I've gotten to know you these past few months. Usually murderers can be so easily read, but you? You're a different case. And I don't pin you as a murderer. Just a lost soul." She explained, her eyes seemed to be almost twinkling.

And for once in a few days, Tord genuinely smiled.

"Thank you."

.  
.  
. 

Today was the day, only, it felt like every other day. He got up. He brushed his teeth. He took a shower and he put on his clothes. He went to the cafeteria and he had a disguisting breakfast. Only today, it tasted a little better.

They had remembered to add salt and pepper to the eggs.

The prison guards came and went, pushing him towards the black sedan with the tinted windows. Every person felt the same. Every face and every smile and frown felt the same. Today, and only today, Tord would be a free man. He knew the truth.

He met with Tom and they stood in absolute silence as the court was called to session. He listened with no intent as the jury read their lines and Tom issued a few statements. The prosecution nodded in agreement as they were to discuss the mental health evaluation.

His psychiatrist was called to the witness stand as she described her findings from the past few months, read a few notes and explained bits and pieces of Tord's trauma. Tom looked ghostly as she explained bits and pieces from the past, about a boy that played a very important role in Tord's trauma that may have caused memory loss and disassociation.

"And who is this boy that Tord has placed most of his blame on?" The prosecution demanded, as a hush fell over the courtroom.

"He told me that his name was Eduardo," she stated softly. She was dismissed quickly as the court was left to discuss.

"You're telling me that Eduardo and Tord have had history prior to that of the murder?"

"I can't believe this!"

"Who would have known that Eduardo was abusive towards him?"

The words meshed together for Tord. He sat quietly with a smile plastered on his face. Tom kept looking over at him and whispering, "what are you doing?" And "why did you say that, you know that's not true!" But at this point, Tord no longer cared.

"Defendant." The single word echoed throughout the room as the judge spoke. Silence fell like a blanket over the courtroom. Everything felt warm and flawless. He was finally going to be free.

"How do you plead?"

Tom stood and gathered his papers to speak, but Tord's voice rang out over the crowd.

"Guilty."

The whispers erupted into shouts as Tom's jaw dropped. The prosecution laughed as mixed reactions of cheers and shouts clouded the atmosphere of the room. He could hear his psychiatrist shout for a voice of reason. He could hear Burkett and Miranda applaud over the chaos. He could hear the tears that spilled over Tom's cheeks. He could hear everything and nothing at once.

As he was apprehended and handcuffed for a final time, Tom grabbed his collar and shouted before the police asked him to step back.

Tord smiled and mouthed a few choice words.

Tom collapsed.

He couldn't bother to hear the outcome. He didn't bother to hear the charges as tears streamed down his face, as the prosecution approached him and asked him why he was crying so hard.

It's just another case, he heard him say.

But no one else but Tom heard what Tord had whispered to him with the brightest smile on his face.

 

"Suffer, monster."

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this one just lemme know
> 
> Most of my Tom/Tord stuff has been vent lately so expect more of it


End file.
